Trip of a Lifetime!

The morning seemed beautiful, that day. Bebo and I had quite an exciting time with the previous one. Since she had informed her parents about the sleepover, we knew nothing could stop us from having lots and lots of fun. I clearly remember how berserk we had gone that evening. From dancing and grooving on the beats of “Chikni-chameli'' to having tea and mathhis (an Indian snack) from chai wale bhaiya to making plans about our next-day trip. 

We had almost readied ourselves for it. The trip. To Agra. Yes! Our plan was to go to Agra and accordingly, we had packed our stuff from clothes to sunglasses to cameras etc. The next day was an execution day and as per the plan we had to reach the nearest bus station and leave for Agra at the right time. We did exactly the same thing but for the last part. The fact that we had planned to start early in the morning and that we ended up waking up at nine, which in turn meant taking the bus not before it was too late, became a bit of a problem. Only later did we realize how colossal the problem was going to get. Since we were, or maybe, I was very adamant about going to Agra, we decided to leave for the bus stand. As expected, we took the bus from Nizamuddin (Delhi) around ten-thirty only to reach Agra at two in the afternoon way beyond our expected time. Not very excited at the delay but nevertheless, undeterred, we got off the bus and started towards the Taj Mahal. Also, as we weren’t acquainted with the place, we decided not to squander figuring out places and headed towards the magnificent Taj. Literally.

I remember how exhausted we had been by the time we reached the place. It was blazing outside and we, as naive as we could get, had hardly estimated the not-so-great side of visiting Agra in the Summer. Nonetheless, we went, enjoyed, clicked photos, ate lunch, had fun, and finally decided to head back to Delhi. I recall taking not less than fifty-odd photos of us in every godforsaken nook and corner we could find. Seemed like a big tick-mark we wanted to make on our to-do list. Finally, exhausted and vanquished we started to head back. It was five in the evening and we, for all our naivety, thought about reaching home by nine-thirty in the night (which in my view today is neither a great time to come home nor acceptable for women IN DELHI). I, for sure, had not given any thought to it. All said and done, we got a bus and finally started. On the way, we dreaded the possibility of our parents getting to know about this trip as neither of us had informed them. Sheer Liars. Our expectation was to reach home in time. (That was the expectation of a 20-21-year-old). Never gave a thought to the possibility of traffic or some jam or some delays on the driver’s end. None. Never. Not for a moment.

The reality was that we reached the Nizamuddin bus stand at one-thirty in the middle of the night! Why? Because there was some godforsaken jam that halted the bus and several others for more than three hours only to leave us at the mercy of God and my flatmate, whom I expected to remain awake till then.

Those couple of hours for us were nothing short of a nightmare. Or more than that. Because by then, we had been getting incessant calls from our families. Both her and mine. At the same time. We had to tell them that there was some traffic and we were being escorted by someone else’s brother. Well, the truth was that we dreaded informing his brother or any other “brother” or brother’s we could think of. After all, who would have been interested in knowing about our impromptu, fun, cute, little trip? All we were hoping was to reach home as early as possible although our expectations gradually dissipated and became more like a fantasy to us with every passing hour. The more the delay, the higher where the chances of getting whacked. Okay, not literally but not to forget the barrage of admonishments we were prepping ourselves for in the coming hours and days. Ultimately, the time came when the red carpet was laid for us. Bebo and I got off the bus. We could see men and women coming out only to be greeted by their family members who would bring them home. We, on the contrary, were clueless as we had never seen Delhi that late. Although, I was happy inside. Felt independent and strong. Huh! Also, because I had no knowledge of the city and people in general. I was confident to find some rickshaw-wale bhaiya who would be gracious enough to take us to our destination, an only forty-five-minute ride!

You got me right. I was completely unaware of any other possibilities. So like any other student with a not-so-big pocket, I started to bargain our ride. Bebo, on the contrary, interjected. Or rather scolded me and said - “What do you think you are doing? Let’s take any rickshaw and leave”. I said, “ Okay if you insist”. You see, how cool as a cucumber I was. Plus I was trying my luck at bargaining. Does it not always feel accomplished when you get something highly-priced at a much lower rate? It does, right. I had a similar feeling yet to be achieved. Anyway, I was completely oblivious to the fact that traveling in Delhi this late for girls or women or “aurat zaat” as they say could be fatal. Well, I am being too cynical but who knows. We took the rickshaw and started our journey. Those forty-five minutes were memorable. More so for Bebo. I will tell you why?

Since both of us were very tired and would ideally have slept by then, we decided against it. Wait, no. Bebo decided against it. I was almost asleep. All I could hear was Bebo telling me, “ Ye dekh IP college aa gaya, wo dekh North campus turn aa gaya (See, IP college is here and we have almost arrived at the north campus turn) and so on. Her blabbering would annoy me and I would say, “Why are you talking so much? Can’t you see, I am trying to sleep? Also, I already know.” She, on the other hand, would not stop. Her info-sessions started growing more and more detailed from the building names to the names of the road we passed and the twists and turns the driver would take. She knew everything. Haryanvi chori, ok! My savior, that day! Also, we were lucky. Later on, she told me how angry she was the whole ride due to my negligence. Or innocence, Baba. Ok, stupidity. Agreed!

Later when I talked about this trip to her she gave me her piece of mind stating how stupid and naive I was. True that. How could I be so foolish? That night, all she was trying to do was to make a point to the rickshaw-wale bhaiya that we knew the place thoroughly and that he better not have any second thoughts about us. To take us to our place and not kill us. To spare our lives and let us live as we also deserved to live, as women! Huh! (The feminist in me keeps jumping out of me now and then, shh). I won’t say I was stupid but yes, I came from a small town and a protective family where I found every other person nice and helping and beautiful. My thoughts had not gone that far till then or even later. Plus, I somewhat lived in a cocoon, so to say. There was a thing around purity and I would choose to call the world very simple and pure. (This was my “safai” or explanation about the incident, to me).

Anyway, we reached my paying guest house at two at midnight. I was literally shaking at the door as my distant cousin, four-five years elder to me, who was also my flatmate happened to be at the door. All I could hear was her sermon about coming home late and not informing my parents about it. Yeah, she threatened me to inform my parents. She also did it. :( 

Naturally, Bebo and I were petrified because our parents didn’t know about this trip, or did they? Maybe they had figured out by our voice, more or less shaking,  on the bus. A meager assumption. Also, who would dare ask about it anyway? Plus, we had been lying all day long about going out with friends and that we had some men to escort us back home. Truth be told, we were just two of us. Alone. In Delhi. At two in the night. In a rickshaw. In 2011. 

The next day was no good and the days that followed were not good either. 

Day 1: I was badly reprimanded first by my mum and then my father and then my sister and then my grannies and so on.

Day 2: Bebo and I went to her place to get another bouquet of love in the form of incessant scoldings first by her mum and her sister and her brother etc.

Day 3: Both of us became famous in college for our unwanted and self-deprecating dare-devilry. 

However, we toughened up or pretended to do so in order to avoid any further harassment.

Because by then, we felt like saying to everyone “Aaj ke liye bohot ho gaya. Baki baad me”. (We are good for today. I will take the rest later). But we weren’t in the position to say that. You know, when you make mistakes and feel sorry about them but get defensive if someone else says things to you. Like that. Yes. Basically, we wanted to avoid the scene lest we got another session of the sermon from friends and family to repent and realize how wrong we were. 

Honestly, what we did was not acceptable. Not that the trip was a mistake but lack of planning indeed was. The fact that we did not think through in terms of planning the day or setting the timelines right or both made us land ourselves in the trouble zone. We were quite a couple of immatures. Or maybe I was. But could she not do the planning for all her maturity? Plus neither of us had an extra pair of “mazboot” hands to bring us out of the situation. Or whatever!

 

But we did have some amazing memories to cherish for a lifetime! What do you think, Bebo?

Thank You:)